Second rehearsal for trumped

Two of my actors tell me we need some humor in Trumped.  Humor?  Humor!  I don't know about humor for this play.  I mean just what is our take on this presidency about to hit us like a nightmare?  I suppose we could insert some humor.  Shakespeare has humor, says one actor.  Comic relief, yes. Yes, I know about this. So maybe comic relief.  Is this the right way to go?  By now I am not sure about too many things.  Which is a lie.  Because I am sure there is nothing funny about Donald Trump.  And I think trying to find humor in any of this is a delusion.  So, I'm listening to Mozart's Jupiter, my favorite of all symphonies.  An incomplete symphony written as the master was approaching his death at a very early age.  Written as creditors were pounding on his door.  I've always identified with this piece.  I'd listen to it out on the porch when Thuy-Duong and the boys were asleep on warm summer nights here by the sea.  Those were idyllic nights, idyllic days, a long, long time before Trump and the cynicism and despair that have shrouded America.  We all need the Jupiter now. We're all facing oblivion now.  Before our time.